29th April 2021 #7 Locked in but not locked down by a wild night in Loch Hourn.

Ian and I set to work building a fire on the shore of Loch Hourn. We chose a site below the highest tide level but, as it was just before predicted HW, we expected the tide not reach the fire.

A stiff NE breeze soon had it burning fiercely.

Unfortunately the tide kept rising and we had to rescue the wood and leave the fire to the mercy of the water. We built a new fire further up the shore.

Of course the sun did not stay out long. Yet another squall battered down the loch towards us obliterating the view of the mountains as it came. A brave rainbow framed the scene but lasted only a few seconds till it was lost in a wall of grey. The approaching storm was elemental and truly magnificent. For a while we were transfixed by its beauty but just in time, we abandoned the new fire to its own devices and fled to the tents. The noise as the wind ripped at the flysheet and alternate bands of rain and hail lashed down added to the sense of wildness.

After the storm, we emerged from the tents to find a dusting of fresh snow on the summits but more importantly the wind had dropped.

As the sun began to set on this landlocked arm of the sea...

... its still waters reflected the sunset colours of the clouds, despite the setting sun being hidden below dark enclosing mountain ridges.

As night fell and the fire burned more brightly we swapped tales of kayaking adventures. We might be locked in, in inner Loch Hourn, but we were no longer locked down!

29th April 2021 #6 another change of weather in Loch Hourn.

No sooner had we turned our backs to the wind and rain at the head of Loch Hourn than the wind dropped. Then the skies began to clear revealing the high rocky ridges of Ladhar Beinn to the west.

A light tail wind let me try the new prototype sail from Scottish firm KCS.

Seconds ago we had been battling into a winter storm, now we were paddling past a forest of birch and alder that was bursting into leaf. It was filled with the song of willow warblers and cuckoo's persistent calls echoed round the corries above.

We were now getting a bit hot as we had been paddling against the incoming spring tide. Fortunately as we neared the narrows, we picked up a helpful counter eddy. This carried us effortlessly the final kilometre to our intended camp site.

Not wanting the day to end, we stopped at a little rise to savour the view back up to the head of the loch. What a transformation. We hardly recognised the azure blue, sunlit waters as those which we had just paddled under a leaden grey sky.

We even got the tents up in the sunshine. Of course this was still Loch Hourn and that would not last... 

29th April 2021 #1 A frosty start on the turquoise waters of the Sound of Sleat.

There had been a succession of heavy rain squalls throughout the night. We were awoken by the Camasfearna cuckoo's calls, which travelled over the channel from the mainland. When we emerged from the tents the sun was rising above the hills. The day dawned cold and clear with frost on the tents and the boats.

Ian and I shared breakfast together while the sun and an increasing NE wind dried the tents. You can read Ian's account of the trip starting here.

Cloud started streaming from the summit of Beinn Sgritheall (974m) which hinted at gusty conditions in Loch Hourn, our intended destination, at its base.

We  launched into the turquoise waters of the sandy bottomed shallows but...

...soon we were in the deeper ultramarine waters of the Sound of Sleat.

A fair breeze pushed us south towards the mouth of Loch Hourn.

My brother Donald was nipping ahead in his little 2.75m RIB with 6HP outboard. Every so often he would stop and video our progress. You can see his video of the trip here.
 

28th April 2021 #2 Sunshine and sleet on the Sound of Sleat.

It has been a cold start to the year and the NE wind brought a series of Arctic squalls to the Sound of Sleat. These brought a bonus of dramatic lighting conditions though trying to erect our tents on the exposed reef took a bit of care in the accompanying wind.

Fortunately the worst of the squalls seemed to pass and we got our camp in order.

As the tide was still low...

...we wasted no time in gathering driftwood for a fire on the sands. We kept our kayaking gear on as the sun did not look like it would last long.

Then the skies darkened with the approach of yet another squall. We rushed to our tents and were deafened by alternate lashings of rain and sleet on the thin tent walls.

As the storm passed, on its way into Loch Hourn, we emerged from our tents into the watery evening sunlight.

Graceful rainbows arched over the still dark mountains, which had a dusting of fresh snow  on their summits.

Hardy primroses seemed undeterred by the weather and neither were we.

We set to and got the fire going as we swapped yarns and...

...finished our meal.

A watery sunset slipped away on the far side of the Sound of Sleat before another squall put an end to our evening by the fire.

A cold second breakfast at dead end beach, Jura

We woke on the morning of our fourth day of our trip round Jura and Colonsay on the machair of Shian Bay on the west coast of Jura. A cold NW wind was blowing  and it felt like spring had retreated to allow the return of winter.

As we had no intention of paddling through the Gulf of Corryvreckan against the west going flood tide, in wind over tide conditions, we wanted to arrive at the west end of the Corryvreckan at slack water before the east going ebb started. That was not until late afternoon and as the Corryvreckan was only 24km away, we had some time to kill. Unfortunately there was not a scrap of shelter on Shian Bay so, on the one morning we could have enjoyed a relaxed start, we had to get moving to keep warm.

We donned full winter attire and...

...Sam even had his pogies on. What a contrastv to the previous few days.

As we left Shian Bay the wind had just a little too much north in it to get our sails up which...

...pleased sail-less Sam. Then, as soon as we rounded the first headland (backed by huge raised beaches of cobbles),...

...the wind freed enough to get our sails up and we were soon making excellent progress up the...

...remote NW coast of Jura, which is always a delight.

In addition to the raised cobble beaches there are several levels of raised cliffs, which feature dry arches and caves and are interspersed by sand dunes. They represent the varying sea levels after the last Ice Age. The west coast of Jura is one of the geological wonders of the World but it gets hardly any visitors.

Our first stop was at Corpach Bay, some 7km further on from Shian Bay. Corpach Bay is backed by caves which were once used to store corpses from Argyll on their final journey to Iona for burial. Iona is 45km away on the horizon at the extreme left of this photo. Often sea conditions were too rough to complete the journey, especially in winter. One can imagine the smell in the caves come springtime when the mourners returned.

We needed some shelter for second breakfast and, not fancying the caves, we spotted a dry sea stack at the back of the beach.

This provided excellent shelter for a most convivial second breakfast. We were all in excellent spirits as we were in no hurry and had no dead to bury.

Read Ian's account here.

Hebridean boules on the machair of Jura.

We got our camp set up on Shian Bay on the west coast of Jura in plenty of time before darkness. In the distance, you can just see Oronsay and Colonsay where we had camped the previous night. We swam in the sea (cold) or the river (warm) behind the machair to freshen up after the long crossing.

We had plenty of time to scour the beach for driftwood of which there was an abundance. There was a solitary fire ring on the huge expanse of machair backing the bay. We do not normally have fires on the machair but there was a pre-existing fire ring with some large logs and planks arranged as seating. As the damage had already been done (apparently it was built by a recent party organised by the estate owners) we decided, on this occasion, to use the local facilities.  We were careful not to move the stones in case the damage got larger.

 I used my exceedingly sharp Japanese folding saw to make a  woodpile from the logs and posts we had gathered on the beach. Some of the logs had been bored by some sort of marine worm and they smelled absolutely disgusting. Camp chores completed, it was now...

...recreation time! We gathered some fishing floats from the beach and started our game of Hebridean boules.

 As you see, we are quite good at it!

The sun setting slowly into the haze over Colonsay to the west finally brought the games to a close.

Read Ian's account here.

A washed up whale and an adequate supply of washed up wood on the machair of north Colonsay.

On the third day of our Colonsay adventure we woke early due to beautiful sunshine which had warmed the tent as soon as the sun rose over the low hills to the east.

It is always easier to pack on the third morning. We had burned logs and barbecue coals which we had brought and eaten and drunk quite a few of our consumables. On a sea kayak camping trip we burn about 5,500 Calories a day!

 It was most gratifying to see how flat our launch would be.

In contrast, this is what our last visit to Kiloran Bay was like. We got our faces wet on that launch!

The feeling of lightness once on the water is always a joy after the effort of humphing the camping gear and loaded boats to the water.

We set off on a very flat sea and hoped to do some close quarter coastal exploring which had not been possible on our previous visit. We hoped to find a one kayak wide rocky channel that leads into a hidden sandy lagoon near the north end of Colonsay.

At first things looked pretty promising but...

...we had not gone far when we were reminded that the Atlantic is never flat for long. Look at David, to the right of Sam, to get some idea of the scale of this growler.

Fortunately the swell did not increase too much and it was very...

...exhilarating paddling along this remote coast with...

...the sun sparkling and the roar of the surf washing the dark rocks.

Unfortunately there was too much swell to land at Port Sgibinis and inspect the Balnahard Whale, which can be easily seen in this remarkable image from Bing Maps. It is a huge artwork by Julian Meredith who has invited visitors to fill in the outline of the whale with cobbles from the raised beach.

Any disappointment was short lived when we arrived at Pol Ban, a lagoon hidden behind some offshore islets and skerries. A combination of the direction of the swell and low water meant the lagoon was protected. We paddled into several of its recesses until we found...

...the narrow channel which led to...

...the sands backed by machair beyond.

One by one we wended our way into this remote part of Colonsay.  No road reaches this far...

..as a steep line of  cliffs cut this tiny northern part of Colonsay from the rest of the island to the south. On our last visit these cliffs were home to many red billed choughs but there were none on this day.

We left the boats in the creek and...

...made our way up to the machair where we discovered...

...a great many huge weathered logs. Colonsay has no trees of this size so where had they come from? Almost certainly...

...these trees grew in North America and had entered the Atlantic via the St Lawrence river before the long crossing to the Hebrides on the North Atlantic Drift. If logs like this are washed up on an inhabited part then they do not last long as they are a coveted source of fuel, which helps see islanders through the long Scottish winter. These trunks have survived as they are just too large and too difficult to get to. We must come back and camp here sometime. The wood supply looks adequate even for our pyrotechnic needs.

On the east side of this isthmus of machair another inlet offers the possibility of landing in calm weather above half tide. The sun was now high in the sky and it was getting hot. Maurcice said he was dying for a drink but was a bit short of water. Sam said he still had some in his water bottle back at the kayak. Mention of a libation brought a twinkle to...

...David's eye. "Isn't Colonsay the island with a brewery?"

Without further ado, we made our way back to the boats!